


Live to Rise

by thecookiemomma



Category: NCIS
Genre: Challenge Response, Community: nfacommunity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-14 20:02:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5756422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecookiemomma/pseuds/thecookiemomma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a grueling case, Gibbs and Tony start down an emotional journey that leaves them reeling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Some descriptions of violence, but I don't think it's beyond what they show on the screen. For the "Great Summary" and "Love is in the Air" challenges on NFA. (Also convinced to add it in to the "Awkward Romance" Challenge as well.) Title from the Soundgarten song of the same name.

 There had been blood. A lot of blood, actually. It reminded Tony of some of the worst cases of his cop days, and of the time they'd barely caught Ducky before he bled out. He shook with the remembered terror. People could be severely shitty to each other, and they –– law enforcement – were usually the ones to pick up all the pieces. It seemed like there were a million pieces during this case.

Emmylou Davy was a Navy wife. She'd hosted teas for other wives, often several times a month. She'd gotten to be friends with everyone on her block. Then, after she'd learned enough from them to rob them blind, she had them over for tea again. She'd laced their tea with drugs, and slit their throats. While they lay dying, Davy cased every house on her block and disappeared. It had taken several long weeks of work for the MCRT to solve the case. But solve it they had. Bishop had thrown up several times, and McGee had turned green enough that Gibbs had sent him outside for a break twice. Tony himself had spent the infinitesimal free time they had at the gym punching a bag.

 

When the case was over, Tony drank himself into a stupor and slept for three days. Nobody complained, because they all had done the same thing. Or their equivalent. He woke up on the third day, not feeling better at all, and groaned. He needed to head into work. He dressed casually, at least for him, and then drove into work, bleary-eyed and disheartened.  

 

He sat at his desk not even bothering to pretend, keeping the masks down for a day. Recently, he'd realized that beyond work, there wasn't much in his life. Seeing all those families, all the happy pictures and laughter-filled homes, had left an ache in him he didn't realize had been there. He sighed and kept typing, one finger at a time.

* * *

Gibbs watched his team with a fierce protectiveness he knew came from another close call. Before they'd caught Davy, she'd threatened every one of them, and attempted to hurt both Tim and Tony. For some reason, Ellie had been the one to be able to talk to her dispassionately. Between that and the fact that she was new enough not to sound like an NCIS agent, she was able to break her in a short time. Something was stirring in his gut, though, and he was still hyper-aware enough to pay attention to it. He sat looking over his glasses at his team, not even hiding his concern. He looked down occasionally to read the report he was working on, and scribbled away neatly more out of habit than actual attention. After about a half an hour of that, he sighed, applied the last signature, put his pen down, and stood. The team stopped their attempts at finishing their report. "Go home. We'll get the rest done Monday." He wasn't going to tell them to come right in. Technically, they all had another day or two of leave, and he was going to take every minute of it. Even if it was little by little. "I'm goin' home. Door's open." The obvious statement was enough to get three pairs of eyes looking at him, then at each other. They all looked bleary-eyed and run-down. He hadn't seen people that desolate looking since an op gone bad 'over there.' He jerked his head toward the door, and all of them moved, following him like ducklings. "Ride with me, you stay the night." He was going to hit the bourbon and hard.

 

"Nothing's waiting for me at home except the fish, and the neighbor can feed them." Tony slung his pack over his shoulder and followed.

 

Tim winced, in that way that meant he didn't want to disappoint the Boss. "Boss, Delilah's waiting for me. She's got a couple days, too..."

 

"Go, McGee. Not a team meeting." He waved him off, and the kid looked relieved.  

 

"I've got a thing, Gibbs. But you go have fun." Bishop waved him off, and he nodded, uncertain if she actually had something, or just didn't want to join them. Either way, she was an adult. He turned to Tony and quirked a brow, and Tony returned the expression.

 

"Get outta here." He repeated his command, and Bishop and McGee left. "C'mon," he gestured to Tony as they got down to the Challenger. "Get in."

 

"Yeah," Tony replied, monosyllabic. He sounded more like Jethro himself than his normal bubbly SFA. _Yeah,_ he thought to himself, _this is the right thing to do._

 

He drove in silence, a little slower than he normally did. Neither man was in a hurry. Besides, he was in the right frame of mind to stretch out the drive just for the sheer enjoyment of it. Tony glanced over, an eyebrow lifted in question, but a small shrug was enough to explain that he just wanted to. Being the intelligent man that he was, Tony caught it and snorted softly, then looked out the window himself. Gibbs was slightly heartened by Tony's fingers tapping on the dashboard in time to some internal music. Even that was slower than normal, though. His gut still gnawed, and it was growing louder with every mile they drove. The signs he was getting from the man in the seat beside him were not good.

 

He finally pulled into the driveway, and got out of the car, making sure they both locked up. He didn't lock his house, but his car was another story. He shook his head at the irony of it, but brushed it off as they entered the house, Tony just behind him as usual. "You hungry?" He turned to see the effect the words had on DiNozzo's face.

 

"I could eat." The thought of food wasn't as heartening to him as it usually was, either.

 

"Steaks?" He hoped the question would get a better response.

 

"You know me, Boss," Tony's attempt at making an offhanded comment just felt ... off. "I never turn down a good cowboy steak."

 

Jethro frowned, sat down for a moment, and just looked at him, eyes narrowing in scrutiny. At this point, he didn't care if Tony commented on it. At least he'd be talking.

* * *

Tony blinked. His boss was gazing at him implacably, like he was a recalcitrant perp in the interrogation room. The only difference was that the anger was missing. In the glass box, Gibbs' anger roiled just beneath the surface like a boiling pot of hot water. Here, it was more like he was just trying to puzzle something out, away from everything. Kind of like he himself had been doing all day long, just unsuccessfully.  

 

He sighed, shifting restlessly; he was past caring that his boss was probably looking for the cracks. He didn't know whether the guy wanted to spackle them closed, or pry them open, and wasn't sure which he'd prefer tonight. Nothing seemed right, and nothing he did _fixed_ it. So, he gave up, pulled the mask down, and met Gibbs' eyes straight on.

 

He let him see how tired he was, how angry and weak he felt, and that he wasn't sure how to get past it. In return, he saw something he couldn't name and hadn't expected. The only thing he knew was that it caused a little spark of hope to flare in his chest. It was Gibbs who broke the gaze, frowning slightly, moving into the kitchen to get the steaks for the fire. Normally, when Gibbs cooked for him, he would work around him trying to figure out sides from whatever he could find in the fridge. Today, though, he sat, covered his eyes with his arm, and leaned his head back against the couch, just letting himself _be_ for a few moments.


	2. Chapter 2

Gibbs grabbed the steaks and the beer. He set one down in front of Tony without the words, either teasing or chiding, that he would normally use. He settled himself in front of the fire, splashing a little beer on them for the flavor. He drained his beer and moved to the couch to wait, keeping a quiet eye on both the meat and the man beside him.  

 

After about ten minutes of long silence, Tony spoke. "You would think that after this many years, I'd be used to it."

 

"You get used to it, DiNozzo, you start crossin' more lines than you intended. That's how you get guys like ......" He left Danny's name unsaid, but a gesture that went unseen filled the blanks.

 

"That's probably right. Inured to the way people get hurt, to the shit people do to each other ..." He snorted, not amused, but wry. "The hell of it is – you know what today is, don't you?"

 

Gibbs shrugged. "Friday."  

 

"Friday. February twelfth." He shook his head. "Normally, I''d be planning for a big weekend with whoever... wouldn't even have to be somebody solid. Just somebody who needed a little – or a lot – of TLC."  

 

Gibbs considered that. "You ever been the one to get the TLC?"

 

"Well, yeah. I mean, I spend the whole weekend with ...," Tony sounded confused.

 

Gibbs cut him off. "No, I'm not talking about fucking some sweet young thing into the bed, and getting her adoration when you rub her down or bathe her. I'm talking about being the one rubbed down and bathed. The one who's taken care of for once. Turn about isn't just fair play, DiNozzo. It's necessary sometimes. And by the looks of things, you haven't gotten any turn about at all."  

 

"Lotta words from you, Boss." Tony was wry, but his deflection covered up what Gibbs knew.

 

"DiNozzo." Gibbs just growled at him, frustrated at the deflection. He _knew_ what the man needed, and wondered if he'd get a fist to the jaw if he were to give it the way he was aching to. It wasn't sex, not just, though if Tony was amenable, he would take care of _that_ too. It wasn't a power play, not this time. He could get into power dynamics, but in this state, Tony would fight him every inch of the way, and it wouldn't be good. Tony needed actual TLC. Food, bath, whatever he'd allow in the way of cuddling, and long hours of sleep. Basic needs. He pursed his lips, getting another lifted eyebrow from Tony, and sighed, mind made up. "You trust me, Tony?"

* * *

"What the hell kind of question is that, Gibbs?" Tony blinked, his tone less angry and more startled. He gazed over at his boss as Gibbs moved to check their food. "Yes, I trust you. It's why I'm here, isn't it?" He frowned, watching Gibbs flip the steaks and settle back down on the couch.

 

Gibbs nodded, some decision made. Tony felt the prickling of his own gut. He knew Gibbs' gut was legendary on discovering things that people were hiding. Tony's own ''investigative sense' was more like a harbinger of change, a sense of when things were either going to have shit flying everywhere, or things snapping into place. As usual, he tensed up, glanced around ready for a fight.

 

"And that right there shows why I'm doin' the right thing," Gibbs murmured, his voice soft enough that if Tony's hearing hadn't been exceptionally good, he would have missed it. He turned his scrutiny on to his boss who was still gazing at him without much clue of what had shifted. "I got one question, and if the answer isn't what I expect, I'll stop right here. Just don't break my nose." He sounded uncertain, and the _knowing_ in Tony's gut intensified, unsure and unready. However, he trusted this man beyond reason, past common sense, and so he nodded slowly. "How many of those women were guys?"

 

Tony blinked, feeling the pieces shift again, and start falling. He wasn't sure if they would land in a neat Jenga-like stack, or whether they'd fall into a crumpled mess at the bottom between them, bent and broken like he was. But he'd promised the man his trust, and he would honor it. "Less than half, but more than a quarter, maybe? Usually not for the Valentine's weekend thing, though."

 

Gibbs nodded, like that was what he was expecting to hear. In another weird shift, he turned and pulled the steaks off the grill. "Here. Eat." He plated them, handed one to Tony with a knife and fork, and took his own to sit back down on the couch, stocking feet propped up on the coffee table.

 

Tony slid his beer over to avoid it being knocked off by Gibbs' feet, and started cutting his steak. "What about you, then? The way it sounds, you're no stranger to the wild side yourself." He snorted, confused and amused by the strange conversation between the two of them.

 

"Been a few." Gibbs shrugged, not elaborating on number or how far he'd gone with a guy. Tony internally suppressed rolling his eyes. He saw that Gibbs noticed a tell and let it slide with a smirk, but both men fell into silence, the forks and knives clanking on the plates, speaking for them. After they'd eaten quietly, Gibbs picked up the plates, set them in the sink with a little bit of sudsy water, and then walked back over to him. "Take your shirt off."

 

Tony was confused, but he started to unbutton his shirt while Gibbs rummaged around in a nearby drawer for something. He pulled out a bottle of cheap off-brand lotion and Tony understood at least a little of what was going through his boss' mind. "Boss...," he started to object, but Gibbs just stepped closer and gave him a look.

 

"Trust me." Gibbs spoke quietly. "And until we get back to the office, Jethro or Gibbs. Not Boss." Tony felt another shift, and let it settle, calculating the feel and shape of it within him. It wasn't quite endgame yet, he knew, and he still wasn't sure what endgame was, but it was getting closer.

 

"I trust you, Jethro." He spoke just as quietly between them, and another click sounded inside his head.

 

"You got that iPack thing?" Gibbs gestured to Tony's go-bag by the door.

 

"My iPod? Yeah. You want it?" Tony made to get up, but the light pressure of a warm hand kept him in place. Gibbs stepped over to the bag and lifted it, bringing it to Tony''s feet.

 

"Can either put 'em in your ears or let it play." He didn't seem like he cared either way, and Tony was somewhat surprised by this.

 

"I've got a little speaker. I'll use that." Gibbs grunted an agreement, and Tony started to set it up, thinking about what to play. "Some of it's kind of ... loud."

 

Gibbs winced. "Like Brain Matter?"

 

"Oh, no, Boss. Not that bad." A narrowing of Gibbs' eyes corrected the slip. "No, Jethro," he rephrased. "More like popular rock than sandpaper on chalkboard. I love her to death," he started, "but..."

 

"That music's as bad as the smell, sometimes." Gibbs finished the sentence. The chemicals she used to test were sometimes more than they could handle. If it wasn't the testing chemicals, it was the stuff _being_ tested. Tony grinned, and Gibbs stopped, catching, cataloging his expression. Tony found it heartening that somebody was watching and actually noticing his emotional state. "Put it on. If it's too much, I'll tell ya."

 

"Fair enough," Tony replied, setting it up, and just randomizing the whole list. Sometimes, he wanted a little bit of variety in his tunes, and tonight was one of those nights. The strains of Ol' Blue Eyes echoed through the room.

 

"Good. Lose the tee and turn this way." Tony pulled off the tee shirt at the command, and let Gibbs direct him to sit the way he wanted. "Close your eyes. Listen to Frank." Tony sighed, letting the music start to fill him, letting the warm hands that came to rest on his shoulders do the magic he never knew they could.

* * *

 

Gibbs wasn't sure what to expect, but he felt a push to rub some of the stress out of Tony's shoulders. He followed the urge, resting behind him, laying one hand on the tight muscles then, after warming up the lotion between both hands, beginning a massage in earnest. He sighed, content with the way Tony's face relaxed into a safe contentment. It looked good on him. It looked _damn_ good.  

 

He listened to the music, heard it shift through two or three types, and understood a little more about the man under his hands with each shift. There were the slow, soulful love songs that he let people hear, but there were also songs with a writhing beat. Gibbs could envision the body in front of him shifting and shaking on a dance floor, or even more enticingly, underneath his hands and body, calling out on him and god to move faster. His breath stuttered, and the rhythm of Tony's fingers on his own thigh caught with the awareness of it. Gibbs heard himself murmuring near his ear. "Shh, it's okay," as though Tony was a child under his care, or a woman he was wooing. And maybe that was the case. Maybe he _was_ wooing Tony. Maybe he was going to keep taking care of him, keep him close. The attraction certainly was there. It was a tangible thing floating between them, sharpening the edges of their interactions. He pressed his body closer, letting his warmth get close enough to Tony to keep him more comfortable. It also had a secondary effect: he could see how Tony reacted to the warmth and nearness of his body.

 

There wasn´t a pushback, at least not anything negative, so Gibbs kept on. He started light, getting the upper layers of stress and pain out before working his way deeper. He paused every few moments to get more lotion or to run his hands lightly across the skin, or most rarely, to cock his head and listen to what the tones and lyrics of the words told him about the man who´d literally put himself into his hands.


	3. Chapter 3

Tony felt the last piece shift into place, and the picture that he saw was either too good to be true, or too important to miss. The next few minutes would tell him which it was. The massage had lulled him into a quiet, contemplative state, and he sighed with the joy of it. The simple act of a set of hands on his back had lowered his walls — or maybe just his stress level — enough that he could start to see beyond the horrors of the most recent case. He leaned back against the tower that was Gibbs, and wondered whether he was imagining the last piece, or whether it had been there, all along, left in the puzzle box to fit into place when the time was right. He snorted, softly, listening intently to the timbre of Gibbs' voice right near his ear as he spoke softly and ... almost tenderly to him.

 

"It's okay, Tony." Beyond the simple reassurance, Gibbs hadn't said much at all. But then again, he never had to. Tony had always had to pick up on things through his actions. And his actions could say several different things. They might need to actually talk about some of this before they went much further. Or at least have some definition of _something_ before he sunk much deeper into lassitude. He chewed on his lower lip, letting Jethro finish the massage. He stayed right on the edge of falling into that quiet bliss, but kept himself at least somewhat aware of his surroundings. "Tony?" Of course Gibbs noticed. Tony closed his eyes, and felt Jethro come around to look at his face, the scrutiny less far-off and barely noticed, and more present and real. _You like to watch?_ The thought rushed through his mind before he could stop it, and he flushed with the images his mind conjured up. "You tensed up on me."

 

The unspoken, "talk to me, or settle down" hit its mark. "I trust you, Jethro," Tony began, his hands tangling together in a nervous mess that was a good visual for his thoughts. "But I don't trust myself. Not right now. Things are too raw and too sharp for me to be able to express myself without getting too close, or too ..." He didn't know how to phrase it, and stared down at his tangled hands. He felt fairly stupid for faltering when he was usually so suave and good with his words. "I do think we're going to have to use actual words. And words that actually mean something."

 

"Probably," Gibbs admitted, moving back behind him, as though it was easier to speak when he couldn't see Tony's face. For all the younger man knew, that was the truth. He knew he sounded more like an idiot when he was standing in front of him. Talking to the man touching his shoulders was so much easier. "Wasn't actually intending to bring you over here to ..." Tony heard him falter, and wondered if it was hard enough to say this even without the eye contact. "Wouldn't have invited the whole team."

 

Tony grunted, the sound a little more forceful than he intended as Gibbs worked out another knot. He agreed, though. "I know," he paused to ... strongly encourage himself to call the man by his given name. Fifteen years of habit required the intentional focus and awareness of change. "I know, Jethro," he repeated. "And I don't know what's going on, except that I know my gut's been wrenched up ever since you started looking at me tonight."

 

"Mine was complainin' beforehand," Jethro seemed more able to steer back into safer waters. His gut was something they talked about often. Just never in this context. So, maybe ... _semi-safe_ waters.

 

The music changed again, and he heard the strains of a very familiar rock song. Gibbs paused the movement of his hands, like he had for every major change in genre, and Tony grinned. This song fit. He tapped his feet to the music. "Listen to the lyrics, Jethro. This is a good one." That was all the time he had to speak before Cornell's voice purred in. "We're insane but not alone..." He couldn't resist the head bob to the drums. The awkwardness of the past few moments was gone, at least while the song played.

* * *

Gibbs listened to the words, and felt his perspective shift again. He could see Tony's code written so clearly. His own code was codified in the rules. At last count, because of the inclusion of Tim's, there were 70. But Tony's core maxim had always been so elusive. With the words he heard through the little speaker, though they were slightly tinny, Jethro could hear how Tony _lived._ How he _loved._ What he chose to fight for, and it was nothing less than pure, raw _survival._ He blinked, hands stilled, yet resting on Tony's shoulders. He closed his own eyes, listening to the voice talk about rising again and again, not allowing defeat to cower or control him. He breathed out a sigh, suddenly nervous again. He knew, even without asking, that if they changed things further, and it fell apart, it could threaten that core.

 

Tony shifted under his quiet hands, body thrumming with the energy that had been lacking. He hadn't realized how much Gibbs was seeing in the moment. He could hear him singing along, as though it were his mantra, which it could very well be. He snorted, and asked the question that was whirling around in his mind as the rock ballad faded, and someone crooning old romantic mush came on. "Which movie, DiNozzo?"

 

"If you're not Boss, then I'm not DiNozzo." Tony chided, keeping some of the energy he'd gained. "Avengers. Comic books, Gibbs."

 

A grunt was his reply. A grunt, and a return to moving his hands on the bare skin. He pushed Tony forward to be able to reach lower.

 

"You want me to lay down?" Tony's tone sounded wry and amused. Gibbs grinned. He could work with wry and amused.

 

"Might be easier." He decided to be absolutely corny. "Could also make things harder."

 

"You did not." Tony laughed, shoulders shaking with mirth. "That was bad, Boss." He shook his head, anticipating Gibbs' correction. "It's gonna take some time. Fifteen years of a thing doesn't go away right away."

 

"I don't mind," Gibbs shrugged, standing to let Tony stretch out on the couch, or try to. He was too tall to fit comfortably. "Just thought it might be ..." And again, he felt the awkwardness of whatever _this_ was edging over him. "Hold on," he deflected a little himself. "Couch cushions on the floor might work." It'd be harder on his knees, but this was for Tony.

 

"Or, you do actually have a bed, don't you? I know you sleep in there only when you absolutely have to, like when you're too drunk not to fall off the couch or when ...."

 

"If I take you to bed, ..." He paused, considering how to phrase it.

* * *

_Take me to bed, or lose me forever._ That was worth another internal eye roll. How awkward could he get? Tony frowned, considering where they stood, both figuratively and literally. "You'll want it all."

 

"I'll want it all." Gibbs reiterated, confirming it. "And not just for the weekend, either." As Tony turned to look at him, Gibbs ran a hand down his own neck, nervousness showing. "And I don't want to fuck it up."

 

"I don't want to fuck it up either." Tony admitted. They were actually going to talk about it. With real words and meaningful phrases. He chose his a little more carefully. "But it's kind of like work. We choose to do it anyway, knowing that it might all go to shit at any moment."

 

" _Has_ all gone to shit once or twice." Gibbs conceded.

 

Tony had to agree with a snort. "But we're still here." He rubbed at his chest, and saw Gibbs doing the same. The job had been hell on their bodies, and as evidenced by this latest case, hell on their mental and emotional well-being, too.

 

Tony stepped toward him, or tried to. He forgot about the coffee table in the way, and whacked his shin on it. He yelped, though it a bad injury. "Gibbs. Your furniture is attacking me."

 

"Better stop that," Gibbs said, a half-smile on his lips and a full smile in his eyes. "My job."

 

"To attack me?" Tony's heart stuttered, thinking about _how_ Gibbs wanted to attack him. Gibbs just continued to smile at him, and Tony shook his head. He tried again to step closer, avoiding the offending coffee table this time. "Maybe _I_ want to be the one doing the ... attacking."  

 

"Either way, job gets done." Gibbs widened his stance, allowing his arms to fall to the side, and Tony stepped into that space. Tony felt Gibbs' arms around him, and sagged a little in relief.

 

"There's a bit of a difference here," Tony said, gesturing to his bare skin and Gibbs' hoodie-covered self. "Not that I mind. Yet."

 

"Let's start slow, Tony. I like to take my time. Even with guys."


	4. Chapter 4

Gibbs hoped he hadn't been too forward or pushy. The interplay between them had shifted considerably, and they weren't even very drunk. In fact, he was barely relaxed. But he _wanted._ And when he wanted, as everybody who knew him knew, he went after it. Hard. But not everybody reacted to that well, and he wasn't sure Tony was one of them that would. He shouldn't have worried, though.

 

"Gonna be the death of me, Gibbs." Tony whispered, his arms reaching around Gibbs' body to hold him closer. They stood, arms tightening in a parody of a long hug that felt much _more_ than friendly, more than pure sex. It was something deep and new, or something he'd not known was missing. His gut was still wrenching, though, and he had no clue why. He'd forgotten something, and it was nagging him. He couldn't move on until _something_ happened, and he didn't know what that was.  

 

"Tony," he whispered, intent on expressing what he was feeling, but Tony chose that moment to turn, pushing their lips together. After that, though his gut kept warning him, he ignored it, lost in the pleasure of kissing the man in his arms. They kissed slowly, ever deepening until they pulled apart to breathe. He must have been lost in the kiss, because he turned and stared at the two people in the room with them. _Shit._ He knew he had been forgetting something. He pursed his lips, pulled away, grabbed Tony's t-shirt, and tossed it to him, then sat down on the couch and waited for Fornell and Carrie to say something. He knew his face was red, as was Tony's.

 

"Tell me it's practice for an op, and I'll let it be," Fornell began, giving them an out.

 

"Been a hell of a week, Tobias," Gibbs hedged, glancing between Carrie and Tony. He'd offered booze and sympathy to the agent and lawyer when they were commiserating about Valentine's Day.

 

"So, not an op." Fornell continued, eyes lighting with mirth. He was enjoying this, the bastard.

 

"Fornelli," Tony sighed, having gotten himself in better order. "You know better than that."

 

"DiNutzo," Fornell jibed, or started to, then Carrie spoke up.

 

"I, for one, was promised booze and sympathy.” She moved to the couch, and sat down. Gibbs watched her expression for disappointment or anger, and saw nothing but amusement and empathy for the two men. He had wondered whether she was going to be like Hart had, wanting to get into his bed, and into his good graces at the same time. However, she'd treated him more like a friend than a ... target.

 

"I got it, Boss," Tony grinned, stepping down to the basement to get the Bourbon.

 

"Do you make him call you 'Boss' in bed, Jethro?" That had come from Carrie.

 

"Haven't gotten that far, Carrie. That was ...” He cut off his words as Tony came back up the stairs, and headed into the kitchen to get glasses.

 

"Really?" Fornell asked, taking the glass of Bourbon from Tony and nodding his thanks. "That's not what rumor says, of course."

 

"Yeah, I've heard all the rumors," Tony snorted as he returned, handing Carrie a cup, and then giving Gibbs one before pouring one for himself. He pulled a chair over from the kitchen, and sat in it, sprawling out into an easy stance. Gibbs envied him the ability to slide into any situation with a limited amount of shame. At least on the outside. He was afraid Tony would internalize it, and he would lose what little time he'd gotten. What little intimacy they'd shared. One kiss. One lousy kiss. If Fornell had fucked this up for him ... He didn't know what he'd do.

 

* * *

Tony snorted, watching the three of them dance around the awkward elephant in the room like pros. He shook his head. He hoped that they hadn't messed up the night for him. His boss and bed wasn't something he let himself think about, but he had noticed the man, had considered once or twice, when especially drunk. When the morning came, he'd let it go, _knowing_ the impossibility of changing or breaking Gibbs' rules unless Gibbs himself decided to. However, now that they'd talked about it, now that the idea was alive and real, Tony wanted it. He _craved_ the touch, time and attention of the man on the couch. His boss. He bantered with them, sipped at his Bourbon and appeared all around at ease. He'd had far too much practice at this: at burying the real and letting the masks fall into place. However, the small spark of hope he'd allowed to burn — and been rewarded for — had flared into a candle, fueled by the antsy movements he saw across the room. Gibbs was unsettled. He'd left something undone.

 

Gibbs was talking about the case, and now Tony understood another way the man dealt. There were times when the three Bs weren't enough, and he had to communicate with another living soul. Tony resigned himself to getting used to having Fornell around, and wondered what it would take for Gibbs to lock the door.

 

He continued to keep their cups filled, helped steer their conversation back into lighter territory, and waited for them to finish talking. They were drunk enough that they weren't going to go home, or so he thought until Carrie mentioned she should probably call the cab to take them back. Apparently, they had considered how drunk they were going to be. Tony wondered if "them” meant separately, or whether they were intending to continue the fun after they got elsewhere. It wasn't his business. This _thing_ with Gibbs _was._ He offered farewells when they heard the honking of the horn, and then stood up with Gibbs to walk them out, as though he belonged in the house as much as Gibbs did.

 

When the door closed, Gibbs turned to him, cheeks slightly pink, and expression nervous. "I forgot I invited them over to drink and bitch."

 

"You were about to tell me so, too, weren't you?" Tony couldn't resist pushing a little more.

 

"Well, that I'd forgotten _something._ " Gibbs shook his head. "I ..."

 

"Hey." Now it was Tony's turn to reassure. "Come here." He pulled his t-shirt off again, and sat back on the couch, patting the cushion beside him. "I've got a pretty good memory, and it's telling me that when they walked in on us, you'd just said you like taking things slow, and I kissed you."

 

"About right," Gibbs nodded, and Tony thought he looked unsure of how to go on.

 

"I'm kind of buzzed," Tony admitted.

 

Gibbs agreed, running a hand through short silver hair. "Yeah, me too."

 

"Not too much, though,” Tony grinned, stretching his arm over the back of the couch and around Gibbs' shoulders. The move made the older man laugh, and Tony grinned, preferring the smile on his face to the awkwardness from before.

 

"Smooth." Gibbs leaned against the outstretched arm, and slid over into Tony's embrace.

 

"But it worked, didn't it?" He chuckled. "For my next trick," he started to say something even more outrageous, but Gibbs cut him off by placing a hand on his cheek and running a thumb over his lips. Then, he leaned in, tilted his head, and they were back where they had started, kissing hungrily, Tony trying to move closer and further inside. He was hungry for the taste and feel of Jethro's kisses, and he'd only had one.

 

* * *

 

After Carrie and Tobias left, Gibbs felt thoroughly embarrassed. If it had been anybody else but Tony, he'd probably have retreated to his basement and refused to talk. However, something inside kept him pushing and almost apologizing to the other man.

 

Tony brushed it off, made a cheesy, teenager move that made things easier, and with his gut settled, and his embarrassment gone, he allowed himself to enjoy the pure pleasure of the kisses. Fire and joy surged through him, and when they both ran out of air again, he pressed their foreheads together, breath short and sharp and wild.

 

Tony tried again to get his hands under Gibbs' shirt, and this time, Gibbs let him. The first touch of Tony's hands to his skin was like a jolt of caffeine in the morning, swelling through his system, spreading like raw emotion. It was a low, pleasant buzz that felt so good he knew why Tobias could walk into the room and be completely missed. Between the pleasure and the hum of the Bourbon in his system, Gibbs _almost_ forgot his plan. He considered for a moment, mostly able to think through and keep his plan in motion. He'd given him the massage, and gotten _some_ cuddling in, but he wanted to give Tony a chance to relax. So, while they sat cuddled together, hands against warm, precious skin, Gibbs weighed his options, and decided to ask Tony what he wanted.

 

"I want to get some of the tension out of your body, Tony. I want to take you to bed, but I want you to really enjoy it. I want us both to be able to _revel_ in each other when we get there. So, I wanna take my damn time." He paused, not sure which option to present first, or whether he should take the easy way out and take care of him in bed. But this was important enough to push. "So, maybe I will take you up to my bed and stretch you out, and get you nice and loose," he grinned, aware that Tony was paying full attention to him, and continued. "Then, we can keep going. But if I keep going now ... I won't do what I wanted to do. Does that sound good to you?"

 

Tony just _looked_ at him, eyes dark and hungry, and nodded. "It's what I suggested earlier, wasn't it?" His tone was a little dry, but below it was a purr that matched the hunger in his eyes. In a mimic of his own normal communication, Tony cocked his head toward the stairs, silently asking if they should go up to the room.

 

Gibbs had to think for a long moment about how the bedroom looked. It'd been a while since he'd been in there, and it could very well be a complete mess. He decided to tempt fate, and nodded, grabbing Tony by the hand, and walking with him up the stairs and around the corner. He was pleasantly surprised to see that the room wasn't too dusty or messy, and that the bed looked good. Hell, it would have looked good dusty and dirty, but he'd had enough embarrassment tonight, and didn't need more.

 

"Can I undress you?” Gibbs reached out, and set the bottle of lotion he'd brought along up on the bedside table. "The rest of the way.” He acknowledged the bare skin in front of him, and wanted to see more, to touch more.

 

"If you want." Tony spread his arms, and hit the dresser. His cheeks pinked a little as he lowered his hand, a little embarrassed.

 

"Hey." Gibbs stepped into his space and lifted his chin with a finger. "We're fine. Gotten through the rest of the night, haven't we?” He grinned, thinking about the pure embarrassment of being walked in on like a couple of teenage boys behind the school.

 

"Yeah, that's true." That calmed him, Gibbs noticed.

 

Gibbs took the opportunity while he was standing there to start undoing Tony's belt and slacks, sliding them down. He pulled the underwear down, and then gently pressed him to sit down on the edge of the bed while he reached down to undo the ties on Tony's nice shoes. He took them and the socks off, and pulled the pants and underwear the rest of the way down.


	5. Chapter 5

Tony watched as Gibbs slowly undressed him. He was holding perfectly still, letting Gibbs do whatever it was that needed done. He knew what 'endgame' was now, and heart, body, and soul, he was fully on board. He shivered as much from the intensity of Gibbs' gaze and actions as from the cool air in the room, and Gibbs paused, considered something, and then stepped out of the room, heater flaring on in a moment. It definitely improved things, and Tony had no objection to staying warm. It was part of the point of tonight, he thought. With a sigh, Gibbs came back into the room and shucked his own polo. Slowly, he undid his own pants, and then, instead of lowering his shorts, he grabbed a pair of nearby sweats and pulled them on.

 

"Lay down on your stomach for me, Tony." Gibbs' voice was still low and soft, and Tony had a little difficulty connecting this side of Jethro with his hard-nosed boss. But he did as he was asked, and Gibbs straddled him, reached out for the lotion, and returned to pressing warm hands and warmed lotion into his skin and knots out of his muscles. Instead of stopping at his shoulders as he had before, Gibbs continued to work his way down, finding spots and working them out, reaching deep and twisting to get every last bit of tension from Tony's aching body. He groaned occasionally, the feeling so good that he couldn't help but let it out. Gibbs kept working, even down through his ass and his legs. He knew he kept a lot of his tension in his legs, and Gibbs seemed to be aware of it too. He wasn't going to be able to move soon, but maybe that was the man's plan.  

 

Gibbs gave another soft order, and Tony was willing to comply, though it took a moment for him to be able to do so. "Roll over, Tony.” Tony did so, and the touches and presses began again, this time on his collarbone, his abs, and the rest of the front of his body. As he worked his way down, Tony had visions of Gibbs doing all kinds of things to him and with him, and the thoughts and touches aroused him even more than the kisses had. "There you go," Gibbs whispered when he finished touching Tony's feet. He felt completely boneless — though his cock proved otherwise — and waited contentedly for whatever Gibbs wanted to do next.

 

What he wanted to do next, apparently, was to shed the rest of his own clothes, and lay down beside him on top of the sheets. Tony was fine with that. He got to see and touch more of that skin, got to be near another human being. The fact that it was Gibbs somehow made it both easier and more coveted.

 

 

* * *

 

Gibbs lay down next to Tony, arms aching a little from exertion and pressure against skin, muscle, and bone. However, the relaxed look on Tony's face made the ache fade quite a bit. He ran a hand along Tony's skin, lightly touching and moving, keeping himself occupied and awake while Tony lay blissed out beside him. They would get to the touching and fucking soon enough. He wanted to _look._ He needed to get to know this man in a way he hadn't in fifteen years of knowing him. There were things the two men knew about each other, physically, and otherwise, that no other soul knew. But this was a new perspective. He wanted to take his time and scope out the land before he moved into position. It might have been the instincts that had led him to be a good sniper, or it might have been habits drawn from those days, but he needed all the information before he moved. When he had that information, he was like a freight train barreling through. He had been called rough and harsh, even by bedmates. It wasn't because of the strength of his touch, but because of the depth of his drive. However, when he looked at Tony, he saw the same thing. The hunger ran through him like electricity, and Gibbs could see the pulse of it.

 

As though encouraged by Gibbs' thoughts, Tony's hand slid slowly toward him. He shifted toward the questing touch, rather than away. If this lasted longer, and he had the opportunity, Gibbs would play with him, tease him with his body. But tonight, he needed to show how very much he wanted and needed that touch. Tony's hand rubbed across his own skin, teasing and touching with an idle intent that spoke of part pure sensual need, and part assurance for them both. Tony rolled on to his side, just watching him, keeping track of the responses his touch engendered, like learning to play an instrument or taking on a role. Step forward, push a button, and step back and see the results. Gibbs was intrigued, and wondered how it would feel to be under that questioning, questing gaze for long hours.

 

Gibbs' approach was, of course, much more straightforward. He'd do what he thought he'd like to do to the person that they'd like done to them, and then, if it worked, he'd keep going. If it didn't, he'd change tactics, much like he would in interrogation. So, with that in mind, he rolled on his own side, facing his lover, and began touching him in earnest, intending to arouse and excite, instead of comfort and tease.

 

Tony caught the change; he always did. So, he scooted closer, close enough almost to press their bodies together, and began kissing on skin. Gibbs shivered with the touch, returning the favor as he could. He wasn't sure what they'd end up doing, or if either of them would need more than sliding and touching tonight, but he was willing to do whatever would feel best to them both.

 

After a few moments of exploration and intentional play, Gibbs pushed closer yet, and rolled Tony back onto his back, straddling him, much like he had for the back massage. However, this time, their chests, hips, and cocks seemed to press together as Gibbs lowered himself to kiss Tony with even more intensity. They lay there kissing and sliding a little, letting their bodies get used to each other and their minds line up in that eerie synchronicity they had had since Tony tackled him to the ground. Though this was definitely a first for them, their bodies had a passing acquaintance with each other, borne from communication and protection through the years. They'd pushed each other out of the way, pressed each other against the wall in anger, and pulled each other back from doing something particularly stupid or unsafe. So, it wouldn't take them long to be fully in tune, but right now, they were still catching those rhythms up.

 

Gibbs felt Tony shift, and with that shift, the tone, angle, and _flavor_ of their movements changed. Suddenly, the banked coals of hunger flared into bright flame, and they _moved_ against each other with a goal. Learning time was done. Gibbs' legs clamped against Tony's, holding him as close as possible. Tony's hands grabbed at Gibbs' ass, and held on as they frotted. Their kisses were interspersed with heavy breaths and whispered exclamations of want and need. Neither man was very loud, though Gibbs figured Tony could be. Gibbs reached over, pausing his rhythm to pump a little of the lotion into his hand and slide it around their cocks to grease their way. It was just enough, and he could return to gliding against Tony in an ever-increasing flow that pushed him toward the edge.

 

Tony's hips canted upward in a sharp, angled thrust, and the force of his orgasm splattered between them, thick and warm. Gibbs kept the movement going, watching to make sure that Tony was okay with going on, and only saw bliss and ease. So, he pushed, erratic and savage, and it only took a little bit longer before his own orgasm took hold, spiraling through him with a ferocity that shook him physically and emotionally.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Tony lay beneath Gibbs, relishing the pressure of the man's body on top of his. He shivered, this time not at all from lack of heat, but from the tremors of satisfaction that hummed merrily through him. He reached up, grabbed Gibbs around the neck, and kissed him, the hunger quiescent, but the need for the connection to continue for a little while longer. He knew that both of them would probably doze soon, and should clean up, but he wanted the moment to last for much, much longer than it had yet.

 

When they separated, Gibbs nuzzled into his skin, kissing against it. "Not hurtin' you, am I?” He whispered softly enough that Tony had to strain to hear it.

 

"Mmm, no," Tony was a little louder, but not by much. He didn't need to be. "Enjoying having you on top of me." He grinned, and Gibbs gazed at him, elation and wonder in his gaze.

 

"Good." Gibbs showed every intention of staying right there on him, and for the moment, that suited him just fine. They'd move in a moment, clean up and who knows what was beyond that. Hopefully, it was just moving enough to get under the covers, curling against each other in a silent expression of need and contentment, and drift off to sleep.

 

He was starting to lightly doze when he felt Gibbs move. Instinctively, he reached out to hold him closer, but a kiss gently bussed against his cheek and a whispered 'Tony' prevented him from keeping him there.

 

"Gotta get us cleaned up. Shift a bit, Tone, and get under the covers. Let me wipe all the sticky off you, and we'll just go to sleep." Tony moved enough to do what he'd been asked, let Gibbs skim a warm washcloth across him, and then Gibbs' presence was right next to him, comforting and warm. Gibbs flung an arm across him, holding him as close as they could comfortably be, and Tony settled a hand on Gibbs' body, needing the balm of Gibbs' presence as he floated off to sleep.


End file.
